


Week 3: Pyxis / Compass

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 10,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 162
Kudos: 73
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 2





	1. A Push from the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: A Push from the Stars  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [persephone_stone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephone_stone/pseuds/persephone_stone)

After the war, the Ministry of Magic made many changes. 

Some were welcome—such as allowing qualified, redeemed former Death Eaters to be hired on as members of the Wizengamot. 

Others were ridiculous, at least in Hermione’s opinion—such as the holiday mixers. More specifically, _this_ holiday mixer—a boozy night cruise down the Thames, complete with several Aurors singing a drunken rendition of a muggle Christmas song and the Chief Warlock vomiting over the front railing. 

Hermione sat alone at the back of the boat, eyes on the night sky and mind adrift. She’d love the stars to guide her as they had once guided voyagers of old, but neither constellations nor compasses would be much help with matters of the heart. 

As if her thoughts had summoned him, a shock of pale blonde hair appeared in her peripheral vision. Draco dropped heavily onto the bench beside her, nudging her knee with his and grinning cheekily. 

“You need to come inside and deal with Potter. Poor wanker can’t handle his liquor.” He swayed toward her, his disparagement of Harry quite ruined by a loud, involuntary hiccup.

“Hmm,” she replied, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Seems he’s not the only one.”

He scoffed, over-correcting and leaning wildly in the opposite direction. Hermione lurched forward to grab at his arms and prevent him from falling on his posh arse, but—caught in the tide of his backward momentum—they both tumbled off the bench, landing in an undignified heap against the glossy wooden deck.

Groaning, Hermione tried to roll off of him, but his arms came around her, holding her tightly against his chest. “Hold on Granger,” his voice rumbled against her ear. “You looked sad. Like you could use a hug. ‘S why I came out here.”

To her utter mortification, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She _could_ use a hug. But the fact that she wanted it from him—that she _wanted him_ —was the reason she felt so unmoored.

After an indeterminable amount of time, during which his arms remained about her, fingers trailing lightly up and down her spine, she lifted her head. “Alright, Malfoy. You may release me now.”

His arms dropped away, and she immediately mourned the loss.

They sat up, beside one another, faces once again turned to the stars. 

“What’s wrong, Granger?”

She sighed. “I’m confused. That’s all.”

“That’s _all?_ If Hermione Granger—she of brave heart, unparalleled brain, and steadfast moral compass—is confused, then what hope is there for the rest of us?”

“You’re all fucked, obviously.”

He let out an inelegant snort. “You’re funny when I’m drunk.”

“I’m funny always. You’ve just underestimated me for too long.”

“Yes.” His voice had lost its teasing edge; it swirled—sincere and heartfelt—into the space between them. “Yes, I have.”

She met his eyes, shivering at the intensity she found there.

Perhaps she’d been wrong before, Hermione decided, swaying—with intention—toward him once more, her lips finding his. Perhaps what she’d needed was a push from the stars.


	2. Argonauts Log

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Argonauts Log  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frumpologist/pseuds/frumpologist)

3RD PLACE  


**_Argonauts Log, Day 1825_ ** __

_Five years on this blasted ship and not once has a woman stolen aboard until now. She came like a tsunami, all chaos. There’s something in her eyes that ties my stomach into knots. The crew appears to love her, but I—am unsettled._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1827** _

_The woman is a menace, filling the minds of the crew with ridiculous notions. As if we’d sail for the continents when all we’ve lived for has been the sea. Can the continents sustain our wanderlust? Negative; their politics alone drive away the nomadic spirit we embrace. I don’t care how charming her smile is, she’ll walk the plank before I steer this vessel to a harbor._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1830** _

_The Pyxis is not equipped for battle, and yet it is unscathed after happening upon The Riddle. The crew celebrates with the woman tonight, but I have taken to my cabin with whisky and a book. She never should have witnessed the devastation of cannon fire, and yet the spark in her eyes as the skies lit up tells me, perhaps, she’s seen more than any man on this crew._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1845** _

_Is it possible to burn from the inside out? What is this feeling that roots itself in my heart? The woman—Hermione, such a lovely name—touched my hand and I vow to the gods I saw her soul in mine. I’m frightened. We’ll reach port in a fortnight. I can’t be rid of her fast enough._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1850** _

_Her lips are silken like the flesh of an apple. She’s magic, and I—I am desperate to know her secrets._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1855** _

_The Riddle closes in once more. Hermione has a plan. Her mind is a wonderful and terrifying place, and maybe with her help, the Pyxis and its crew will survive the oncoming storm. She seems certain about this fight, and I am certain about her._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1857** _

_They stole her from me, bound her in chains. She walked the plank pleading with my name on her lips. Oh, but has ‘Draco’ ever sounded so sweet? To hear her say it once more, in the throes of passion rather than fear… But it is not meant to be; my Hermione is gone from this world._

_**Argonauts Log, Day 1859** _

_My heart is crushed, unmendable. Port is foreign and yet the sea harbors such ill memories I dare not return. The crew leaves without me, and so my journal comes to its end._

* * *

She comes in the night, wrapped in sodden cloth. Her matted down ringlets fall into her gaunt face.

“You walked the plank.” He’s certain he’s seeing a ghost.

Reaching out, she cups his cheek. “And swam to shore.”

From within her drenched clothing, she pulls a worn leather journal bound by string and stamped with a compass.

“Take me back to sea, Captain.” 

He swallows, wrapping his fingers around hers over the journal. “As you wish, Hermione.”


	3. Camping Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Camping Trip  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 494  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [wish123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wish123/pseuds/wish123)

Draco shifted uncomfortably as he laid on the ground. He raised his hand up to block the sharp rays shining directly upon him. His delicate skin was toasting under the high noon sun. Cool drops of sweat streaked down the sides of his face. 

His mouth was dry. He couldn’t recall the last time a drop of moisture touched his tongue. How long had he been out here? ...Minutes? ...Hours? ...Days? 

Draco summoned what energy he had left to sit up. He reached towards his bag and fumbled for the canteen to consume whatever ration of water was left. 

“MINE!” 

A shrill shriek pierced his eardrums. The bottle was ripped from the weak grasp of his fingertips. 

Draco peered into the angry stare of a small girl with platinum blond pigtails. She wore a shirt that read, ‘Mischief Seeker.’

“Now, Lyra...you have to share with your father.” 

He glanced in the direction of the sweet, yet admonishing, voice of his wife. 

Hermione was nose deep in a map while their son, Scorpius, was intently assessing the compass in his hand. 

They’d spent the weekend navigating through forest and countryside. No magic allowed. Scorpius was working on achieving his hill walking and survival badges. 

Hermione reviewed the activities with Scorpius and Draco looked after a ceaseless Lyra. 

He’d chased their daughter in just about every direction, except for the one Scorpius attempted to lead them in. In the aftermath of one mad dash, Hermione found a way to find the positive after Lyra fell and scraped up her legs--Scorpius got an opportunity to tend to her injuries. 

At night, Draco got her to sleep after a tantrum over marshmallows, only to have the heel of her foot collide with his face right as he was on the verge of sleep. 

No one had even stirred at the sound of his yelp. 

In the morning, as Draco was eating the breakfast Scorpius had cooked over the fire, tiny hands shoved an amphibian in his face. 

Lyra had found a toad. A very dead toad. 

“There...make sure you hold it level.” 

Draco’s attention was brought back to the present. Hermione was looking over Scorpius' shoulder at the compass and relayed some additional instructions. 

“So, what’s the difference between ‘magnetic north’ and ‘true north’?” 

Hermione began to explain the Earth’s magnetic fields to him. 

Draco heard the snap of sticks beside him. A glimmer of something shown expectantly in Lyra’s grey eyes as he narrowed his own towards her.

“What?” 

She giggled. 

“I put a bug in my pants.” 

“How much farther?” Draco shouted back towards Hermione and Scorpius.

* * *

That evening, Draco collapsed onto his bed. Hermione was on her side reading a book. 

She shook her head at him. “You’re being dramatic. We didn’t even hike outside of Malfoy grounds.”

Draco couldn’t hear her though. He was too captivated by the way the pillow curled around his face, like an affectionate hug welcoming him home.


	4. Death By Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Death By Deception  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 497  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

Hermione had assumed adulthood would bring many things.

Babies.

Marriage.

Happiness.

She’d assumed she’d finally be able to let her guard down and enjoy the reality that awaited her once she was ushered into the _real world._

Long gone would be the days of traipsing across the Scottish Highlands with her best friends, fighting for justice, equality and, of course, their lives.

She’d assumed wrong—well, not entirely. 

She had responsibilities, and was happy—90% of the time, but babies and marriage? Those two little boxes had yet to be ticked, and despite her biological clock that only seemed to grow louder the closer she got to thirty, she was absolutely not ready for either.

Not having a boyfriend didn’t help, but moreover it was her job.

While absolutely incredible, retrieving wayward Magical artifacts didn’t exactly lend itself to a routine, and stable life.

At a moment's notice she would be galavanting across the globe in search of a rogue artifact that had fallen into Muggle hands. This allowed her to explore parts of the world she never would have otherwise—tropical rainforests, or the glacier covered landscapes.

And now? Bermuda.

She should have been excited. Sun, sand, and finding a south-governor, or compass in layman's terms, that ancient Chinese warlocks were rumored to entomb the Anemoi inside. Typically these rumors turned out to be nothing more than a jinxed tchotchke. But sometimes—just _sometimes,_ they were real.

That is where Hermione came in. Collect the artifact for the Ministry, and trace its origins so they could better understand the root of Magic’s less than humble beginnings.

She was, for lack of a better term, a glorified treasure hunter. 

And Hermione loved her job.

Or at least she did until two months ago, when Draco _Bleedin’_ Malfoy waltzed into her life once again

When Bernard retired she’d expected to fly solo for a while, enjoy the quiet of traversing the continent in solitude, but Kingsley clearly had other plans in mind.

Which is precisely how she found herself sitting on the patio of a posh Muggle hotel on a tropical island, nursing a headache as she argued— _yet again_ —with her blond companion on their backstory.

“Honestly Granger, newlyweds is the simplest option.” He sat across a wicker table, dressed in what Hermione could only describe as British pompous asshole fashion. A cream pair of shorts that showed off his toned thighs, a tan belt, a blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up and dark sunnies. If she didn’t absolutely hate every damn word that spilled from his lips, she might actually find him… fit. But that would absolutely never happen.

Not in a million years.

“And as I’ve stated— _several_ times. Under no circumstances will I ever pretend to be married to you.” She crossed her arms over her bust, leaning back in her chair as her lips pursed. Normally, this would not be the hill she was willing to die on, but with Malfoy? She was prepared to read her last rights.


	5. Flight 8414

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Flight 8414  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [KasmiAnn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasmiAnn/pseuds/KasmiAnn)

_Now boarding flight 450 to Auckland_

Hermione opened her eyes to check the time, hoping she hadn’t slept through her connection. She sighed in relief as she saw she still had 15 minutes before boarding. As she stood up and stretched, she spotted a familiar shock of blonde hair attached to a man sitting across from her. She blinked and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“Draco?” she whispered at the hunched over body.

Slowly, Draco sat up, his eyes wide.

“Granger?” he responded incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” They asked each other in unison.

Hermione responded first. “I’m waiting for a flight to Sydney.”

When Draco continued to stare at her blankly, she asked again, “What are you doing here?”

“In Dubai? I’ve been here for a few months.”

“Ok..” she started in response. “But what are you doing _here?_ In a muggle airport?”

Draco cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his seat.

“I’m waiting for a flight to Sydney.”

“Why?”

Draco shrugged. “I asked the agent at the desk for any flight this morning, and this is what she picked. I let fate decide.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, sitting back down, confused.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, rumpling it in the process. “Do you know what it's like living a life that is planned in such detail that you don’t even question what you should eat for breakfast?”

When Hermione shook her head no, he continued.

“That was my life, Hermione, until Potter defeated You-Know-Who. My father went to Azkaban, my mother retreated to France, and I was left to pick up the pieces of the Malfoy Estate.” Draco snorted bitterly. “Or what was left of it. I couldn’t do it, so I packed up some things and took a random flight out of London and ended up in Dubai.”

He stared into her eyes. “Last night, something told me it was time to move on, so I came here and asked for a random flight from the agent. And here we are.”

Hermione felt shivers move down her spine as she looked back at him.

“What awaits you in Sydney?” he asked.

She cleared her throat and took a small item from her pocket. “My parents, hopefully.”

She handed him the item. “A compass?” he asked curiously.

“My parents have its twin. I charmed them to find each other. They point in the direction of the other and glow brighter as they get closer. ”

Draco was smiling now as he handed the compass back to Hermione. “You clever witch.”

Hermione felt her cheeks redden and shrugged.

Draco looked at the ground for a moment before speaking again. “Would you like some help? Finding your parents?”

Hermione looked at him, shocked. “I--really?”

He shrugged again. “It feels like fate is pushing me to.” He stood up and held his hand out to her. “What do you say?”

_Now boarding Qantas flight 8414 to Sydney._


	6. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Follow  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [NotAMuggleMiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotAMuggleMiss/profile)

NIK’S POST-PETAL PICK  


He feels like he has been set adrift in the cold sea, abandoned to drown. From his cell, he can hear the unforgiving waves as they crash on the shore, like the waves of despair that are churning in his gut. Navigating either seems all but impossible. He remembers the chill from the perilous journey he took to this forsaken place. This hell where they left him.

Alone. How can he hold on to the light in his soul without her there to guide him and remind him of the righteous path he chose? In this place where darkness closes in on him, every moment of every day, the thought of her is an ember to cling to. But even those memories that help him guard his humanity could be ripped from him if he is not careful enough.

Dementors do not care if you are innocent.

Is he even innocent? She would say he is. The others may want to leave him to rot, but not her. She is all that is right in the world. She is kindness, compassion, fierce bravery and joy. He would have followed her anywhere. She was his compass. She led him through every storm, every doubt. She carried him through a war and for a brief moment, deposited him safely on the other side. Until they tore him away from her. 

He can still hear the echo of her cries, her protests, her screams telling him to hold on. She said she would come for him. But day and night blend together here. He no longer knows how long he has been waiting or how much longer he will continue to wait.

Here, time is measured by each new bowl of porridge pushed through the bars in his door. The hours pass by the changing shadows on the wall, a glowing reminder of outside from the small window near the ceiling. The minutes are counted by the crashing waves.

Approaching footsteps, at the wrong time of day, send panic racing through him and he scrambles to make himself small in the shadows of the farthest corner from the door. 

No words come, only hands that pull him from the floor, push him through an entryway and gruffly guide him to the end of the long stone corridor. The hands knock on the wooden door and it opens to reveal the most beautiful hallucination he has ever seen.

“Draco!” she cries out as she reaches for him.

The sound is deafening and he shrinks away. Delicate fingers carefully touch his face before reaching up to thread gently through his dirty hair. There are tears in her eyes. Her caress is intoxicating. He wonders if this moment will be torture or sustenance when he is back in his lonely cell.

Another silent pair of hands brings a box, which she shrinks and slides into her bag. Still, he dares not hope.

“Come,” she says, holding her hand out to him. “It’s time to go home.”


	7. Forty-Six Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Forty-Six Points  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 497  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

“Pyxis!” 

“Uh… bless you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, brows disappearing beneath her fringe as she twisted her head toward the plush leather sofa in the common room where Ron was sitting with Pansy nestled into his side, a novel in her hand. “Really, Ronald?” 

Ron shrugged his shoulders before pulling the Quidditch periodical closer to his nose to peer at one of the photographs. “S’not my fault your voice gets all high and wheezy when you get excited about something.” 

She huffed, the exhale of air making the fringe over her forehead flutter. “It’s a constellation for Merlin’s sake.” 

His eyes drew away from whatever photograph had captured his interest and lifted to peek over the top of _Quidditch Quorum_. “I did take astronomy, yeah? Mariner’s compass, seafarers— all that tosh.” 

“Are certain that’s a legal word, Granger? Not that I doubt Weasley’s memory, but...” Draco peered down at the mahogany table between himself and Hermione, surveying the myriad of wooden alphabetic tiles littering the table, his fingers drumming on the ancient bit of wood. “...this muggle game has some ridiculous combinations of letters they deem actual words.” 

Her nose wrinkled as if scenting something acrid. “Do you really want me to get out the Scrabble dictionary again?”

“Absolutely not.” Pansy’s eyes didn’t stray from her book as she turned a page, her tone sharp. “The last time the pair of you got into an argument over that asinine game, it smelled like nail varnish and basilisk entrails in here for three days. You’re not the only two who can scent things in our year and I’d be quite happy if someone obliviated the memory of that combination from my perfect Alpha nose.”

Ron groaned, the pages of the magazine in his hand rustling as he tossed it down on the floor next to the sofa and covered his eyes with his hands. “It’s in the bloody Astronomy textbook. It’s a word.”

“Yes, well so is Camelopardalis and that one is just absurd.” Draco pushed a tile in position to spell out a short, two-letter word.

“Pyxis is worth forty-six points! It counts.” Hermione pulled several wooden tiles from the small velvet bag and lined them up carefully in front of her, arranging them into possible combinations as her eyes flicked over the game board. 

“You might need a bloody compass to find your way around that mess of tiles.” Draco leaned back, his hands coming to rest behind his head as he stretched, a pale line of skin coming into view as his jumper rose up just above the line of his belt. 

Hermione’s bottom lip caught between her teeth but was pulled free almost immediately with a swipe of Draco’s thumb and a low growl. “Don’t do that, Granger.” 

Pansy’s book snapped close and she buried her face against Ron’s jumper, “Merlin save me from unmated pairs.” 

Ron chuckled, his fingers combing through Pansy’s hair as she snuggled closer. “Be nice.” 

“Shut up, Omega.”


	8. His Guiding Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: His Guiding Light  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 497  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Articcat621](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Articcat621/pseuds/Articcat621)

Draco stumbled, nearly falling completely on his face as he tried to navigate his way through the woods. Looking down, he cursed the twisted roots of the tree that had tripped him up. “ _Lumos_ ,” he muttered, illuminating the tip of his wand. He had wanted to travel under the cover of darkness, but he was likely to break his neck if he continued to do so.

Feeling exhausted, he stopped to take a few moments to rest. The past few hours had been a whirlwind of chaos, both physically and mentally. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and focus. Subconsciously, he reached down and rubbed the ache in his chest that hadn’t stopped since _she_ had disappeared from his sight.

 _Granger… Hermione_ , he thought, recalling the panicked look in her eyes when she met his gaze. He wondered if she felt the pull just as he did. His mother had known, too – there was no way she couldn’t with the way she had tried to lessen Hermione’s torture.

Coming into inheritance as a Veela over the Easter holiday had been unexpected. His mother had been there for him, supporting him through the emotional and physical distraught the change had taken on him. She helped to prepare him as best as she could, explaining what she could about the creature inheritance that ran on her family’s side, though it had skipped a few generations.

Nothing, however, could have prepared them for Granger, Potter, and Weasley being dumped on their doorstep in the middle of the night. Nothing could have prepared Draco for the unexplainable feelings he felt for Granger… To find out that she was his mate? That she was the one his Veela had called for its own? It was unthinkable. The more he thought about it, however, the more it made sense. Hermione wasn’t too different from himself – they were both studious, driven, and incredibly stubborn. It made sense that she was his mate. The wanting ache in his chest intensified.

He knew that Potter and them would likely head to his Aunt’s vault. It was clear that something was hidden in there, the way she reacted when she saw Hermione had the sword. He knew that he had to help them – as did his mother, which is why she helped him slip away mere moments after Hermione and the others disappeared. His heart ached, knowing that she’d feel the wrath of the Dark Lord, but they both knew that this was what Draco had to do.

Looking up at the stars, he tried to find the constellation he was looking for. When he spotted the stars that made up the Compass constellation, he smiled, his resolve firming. “Guide me, Pyxis. Help me find her,” he whispered as a prayer to the heavens. Tightening his grip on his wand, he began moving forward. He would find Hermione, and he’d help them end this.


	9. In Her Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In Her Wake  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Kyonomiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko)

5TH PLACE  


Draco is staring down at the compass in confusion, watching the needle spin circles. Granger huffs at him and snatches it out of his hand. 

“Weren’t you paying attention, Malfoy? You have to verbally command it. Ask for what you want.”

With clear annunciation, his House Unity partner orders the bit of magical tchotchke, “Point me to what I want to find.” The needle snaps into place, pointing at Granger’s chest as they stare down at it. She looks over her shoulder and says, “It must be behind us. Let’s go.”

And so, he follows, and sure enough, the first item on this ridiculous trust-building scavenger hunt turns out to be a peacock feather quill standing upright in a tuft of tall grass. Granger plucks it and puts it in her beaded bag that is rightly too small to hold it.

“Let me try,” he says, snatching away the compass in irritation. She faces him with her hands on her hips but allows him his effort. “Point me to what I want.” As before, the needle snaps hard into place and points Granger’s direction.

“The same way then, toward the Forbidden Forest,” she notes, and they make their way onward. At the forest edge, they try again, and the needle continues to point beyond their path, Granger looking over her shoulder. “Surely they don’t expect us to go in…” She’s chewing her lip nervously.

“Probably not far,” Draco tells her, apprehensive himself but putting on a brave face. He’s had enough of being called a coward. She leads, as she often does, and he continues in her wake.

And so it goes. Occasionally, she stops their progress, and they huddle over the compass together. He commands it to lead them, and the needle continues to point farther away.

After some time and another direction to keep going, Granger takes the item back from him. “Look, maybe you’re not doing it right and it’s too dangerous here for mistakes. Point me to what I’m looking for.”

Immediately, the needle springs and points back the way they came. She gives him a look of aggravation as she drops the compass back into his hands and stomps back towards the Hogwarts grounds.

Draco falls back, curious, and tries again where she can’t hear. From behind, to her left, and back again, always asking to be pointed and the needle always narrowing in on her. He edges closer, coming in from her right.

“Point me to what I want,” he says softly, and the needle focuses dead left as he suspected it would.

She must have heard this time, because she looks up. “What?”

He steps closer still and she stops, waiting. “Point me to the one I want.” It points true.

Standing close, he holds the compass between them and whispers, “Point me to the only witch I want.” Dead center, straight to her.

Draco looks up with a hopeful quirk of his lips. “Good news, Granger. I guess it works afterall.”


	10. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Lost and Found  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 497  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Torigingerfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torigingerfox/pseuds/Torigingerfox)

Draco Malfoy was sitting alone by the lake, bathed by the early morning sun. 

He was lost, like a sailor during a storm, but sitting alone on the shore and witnessing the start of a new day helped filling the emptiness inside him.

He often wondered how could someone _feel_ the void? Per definition, it was the absence of something; it was antimatter, non-existent. Yet, he felt an abyss eating him from the inside out.

He just wanted peace, and the closest he felt to being at peace was sitting by himself, getting lost in the calming sight before him. 

There was beauty in silence, and no one was ever there so early in the morning to disrupt it.

Well, no one except for Granger. 

She would sit under a nearby tree, her head buried in a book. He would stand very still, so not to be heard; he liked observing her without being seen.

Draco couldn’t quite explain his fascination with Granger, so he tried to blame it on the fact that she was the only person who’d spoken with him since their return to Hogwarts.

She probably did it out of pity, and how pathetic was it that, as much as he hated pity, he had been grateful for their exchanges?

That said a lot about his mental health.

Lost in his own head, he exhaled too loudly, and Granger looked up, spotting him.

She closed the distance that separated them and sat beside him.

“Malfoy.”

“Granger.”

None of them said anything else, the silence he loved so much suddenly becoming excruciating.

Granger finally broke it. “So, how’s life treating you?”

“Peachy, everyone hates me. Clearly, healing and being forgiven isn’t in my stars.”

“Oh Merlin, don’t go all Trelawney on me now.”

He laughed, despite it all. 

“Does it bother you, not being given a chance?”

“At first, I was so fucking mad, Granger. Eventually, I stopped feeling either anger or sadness. There’s merely a dull despair lingering in the background.”

“Your resignation is scary. It’s like you’re really _done_ with everything.”

“Eh, what’s the point of fighting a losing battle?”

“Losing battle?”

“Yeah, no one wants to be associated with the coward who’s _nearly_ killed Dumbledore, _nearly_ changed his mind-- and _thoroughly_ fucked everything up.”

“You mean _nearly_ fucked everything up.”

He smiled. “Yeah, a coward through and through.”

“After everything you went through, don’t give up like this, Malfoy.”

“Well, since the world has given up on me, seems like fair game for me to give up too.”

Granger took his hand, and his traitorous heart skipped a beat. “You just need some guidance. Even the most expert navigator gets lost without a map.”

Her words warmed him, and for the first time in weeks, Draco _felt_ something. Her eyes, so warm and welcoming, were bright like the beam of a lighthouse.

 _Yes_ , he was lost.

_Yes_ , finding his way back would be hard. 

But he felt he might’ve just found his compass. 


	11. Magical Magnetism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Magical Magnetism  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [fandomfairytales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales)

According to Draco Malfoy, there was nothing in the world quite as magnetic as the following four things:

Stars; there would forever be the innate human urge to look up and stare at the bright points of light glittering in the midnight depths of space.

The Earth's poles: pulling a compass needle north, to lead a sailor home.

His beloved’s eyes, the way they glittered with mystery betraying the passionate love she felt for him.

And sirens…

Their song was nothing the heavens could explain, and no man on earth was immune to their magic.

So, when the captain of the Pyxis explained the dangers residing in the territories they would need to sail through to avoid a squall building over the horizon; he felt a stab of palpable fear pierce his heart.

Sirens led men to their doom, coaxed ships to run aground on shallow reefs and rocky outcrops; their chances of surviving this intrepid voyage dropped alarmingly with each degree the rudder turned, but it wasn’t death Draco feared.

It was the form the siren would take to entice him.

There was only one woman capable of truly leading him astray and she had done so many years ago.

Hermione Granger had been the one to turn his head from prejudice and greed; his wretched heart belonged to her from the first; to die and never see her angelic visage again, to lose her to some mythical imposter was a thought he could hardly bear.

Not to mention she would be furious. His wonderful wife would roast him alive with fiendfyre for dying in such a ridiculous manner.

As they turned, the captain ordered the men to remain at their posts (as though it would have any bearing later) breaking the silence but for a moment.

His heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the waters, looking for the slightest ripple.

“Keep her steady!”.

“Aye aye, Sir!”

Suddenly the tension snapped, melodic voices pervaded the air and the crew swayed in time, their eyes glazed and vacant as they ambled towards the port and starboard sides.

It was a terrifying sight, but he had to wonder why he wasn’t among them.

How was it possible he had remained an onlooker rather than an unwilling participant in the siren’s hunting strategy?

With no one manning the helm, the ship lurched, and Draco sprang into action; bounding up to take control of the vessel. Even inexperienced, he was better than nobody.

He watched on, helpless as men succumbed and committed themselves to the briny depths; until finally, he had managed to sail them through the pass safely.

It was a miracle anyone had survived, but to not feel the effects at all?

Something had to be wrong with him, surely?

* * *

It wasn’t until they arrived in port that he understood why the gods had spared him… Seeing Hermione smiling and waving from the shore, their son at her hip, was more than anything the sirens could offer him.


	12. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Missing  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 495  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [MidnightValkyrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightValkyrie/pseuds/MidnightValkyrie)

Voldemort was dead, the war was won, and Hermione Granger was missing.

Draco had turned his back for just a second to deflect a curse and when he’d turned back around it was if she’d vanished. In the chaos of a magical battle, it was impossible to search for her without getting drawn into duel after duel by Death Eaters, Order Members, and students alike.

When the Dark Lord fell, he Apparated home. Attempting to round up uninjured people to search the grounds would take too much time and too many arguments. He should’ve already abandoned the fight to find her. Regret pounded through his veins as progressively more horrific scenarios invaded his mind.

Before she’d disappeared off on her quest with Potter, he’d made some secret plans of his own just in case he had to find her. He sprinted through his childhood home to his bedroom, where he’d stashed the Dark Artefact right before he’d been ordered to return to Hogwarts.

He sat at his desk and unlocked the top drawer, praying that it’d been untampered with. Luck was on his side for once. When the drawer slid open, the ancient compass still lay inside, right where he’d left it. He’d just happened to see it inside Bourgin and Burkes when he’d been examining the vanishing cabinet before returning to school for Sixth Year.

Initially, he’d bought it to be able to find his mother should the need arise. Now it felt like kismet he was using it to track her instead. The corner of his mouth twitched, imagining what she may say when he showed her the Dark tool that would lead him to her. The vision of her warring between being disgusted at its capabilities and curious over how it worked bolstered his spirits and calmed the shaking of his hands.

Nimble fingers pried free the stopper on the vial of blood he’d taken from her and carefully filled the ring engraved into its outer edges. The wood absorbed every last drop, growing warm in his palm after he’d fed it.

“Point me,” he whispered.

The needle spun wildly for a few moments before slowing to a decisive stop, pointing due East. He swallowed hard. The compass had found her, which meant she was still alive. The short burst meant she was relatively close, likely within fifty miles. A swirl of magic packed his satchel and summoned his broom from the closet.

When he kicked off from his balcony and took off into the first rays of dawn, he prayed to every deity he’d ever heard of that he would get there in time. It was possible she’d been taken by friend rather than foe, but he didn’t have much hope for that. All of it had been allocated to simply finding her alive.

“Just hang on, Granger. I’m coming for you,” he muttered as he flattened himself on his broom, clinging to the compass that would lead him to her.


	13. Never Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Never Lost  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 427  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Tridogmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridogmom/pseuds/Tridogmom)

“But, Hermione,” Draco whined. “I _need_ it.”

“Draco,” Hermione said firmly, “that watch is thirty thousand pounds. You already have twenty watches and you only wear half of them. Why in the world do you need another one?”

Hermione and Draco were celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary in Milan. Italy was a place Hermione had always wanted to go and see all the historical sites. But instead of museums and old churches, her husband had been distracted by yet another shop selling clothes and accessories that he didn’t need. What was the point of going to another country if you were just going to spend the entire time in shops? 

“This one has a compass, Hermione. A compass! I’d never get lost again.” 

Looking around at the Muggles near them, Hermione lowered her voice. “You’re a wizard. You can use your wand and never get lost. Or you can just Apparate home if you need to.”

“But what if I was caught by rouge dark wizards who took my wand and were about to touch my penis? Then my only chance of escape would be my handy watch. A watch with a _compass_.”

“You’re mad as a bag of Kneazles. And why would dark wizards want to touch your penis?”

“You’ve seen it, it’s impressive. Who _wouldn’t_ want to touch it? I know you were gagging for it last night. _‘Oh, Draco. Give it to me.’_ Or did you forget?”

“I can’t believe I married you,” Hermione said, laughing at the prat she loved. “Get the watch if you need it that bad. But after this, we’re going to Duomo di Milano, and you’re going to like it.”

* * *

Draco was distracted by his new purchase as Hermione looked at the map again trying to find her way to the old cathedral. Her parents had visited it when they were in Milan on their honeymoon. A picture of them kissing in front of the beautiful church had sat on her mantel her whole life and she wanted to see it in person. 

“We need to go this way,” Draco said, pointing to the left. 

“How do you know?” Hermione asked. 

“Because this map says we need to go east and the compass on my watch—that you didn’t want me to buy, by the way—says east is that way.” 

They walked the way he pointed and after turning the corner the beautiful building was in front of them. There was no way she would admit it to him, but maybe the watch wasn’t such a bad purchase after all.


	14. Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Propositions  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Misdemeanor1331](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misdemeanor1331/pseuds/Misdemeanor1331)

The ship appears from the ether. One moment: empty water, dark and lapping against the cement berm of Liverpool’s docks. The next: a massive construction plucked from Greek mythology, long and thin, sail gathered to make port. Silent oars dip into the water, deftly steered by an absent crew. A looped mooring line secures itself over a bollard, newly grown from the cement. The ship’s hull creaks as it comes to a halt. 

Hermione steps from the shadows, her hood pulled low. Nothing can go wrong tonight, and indeed, nothing will. Per usual, she’s thought of everything. A Muggle-Repelling Charm ensures privacy from the night watchmen patrols. A quick fizzle of carefully aimed electricity has disabled the cameras. 

Nevertheless, her nerves jangle in anticipation. It’s more excitement than fear, the crescendo to a piece painstakingly orchestrated over three months. 

A man—also hooded—steps from the gangplank. 

“Jason,” she says in greeting. 

“Medea.” Hermione hears the smile on his reply. They’ve both played this game of protected identities before, though these aliases are more entertaining than most. “My payment?” 

She holds her hand aloft, palm up. A leather sack, fat with Galleons, appears upon it. Jason reaches for it, but Hermione pulls away. 

“I need to see the cargo first.” 

He leads her to a stack of crates, unlocks the topmost, and steps back. Hermione’s heart thuds as she leans over, but the cockatrice is hooded, its deathly glare contained. 

“You’re aware that cockatrice are considered Class B Non-Tradeables?” 

Jason scoffs. “You’re aware that I don’t care about Ministry rules?” 

“Well, you should.” She flips her hood and turns on him, wand drawn. “Hermione Granger, Regulation and Control. You’re under arrest.” 

He draws and fires. Hermione expects the curse. She deflects it, disarms him, conjures ropes that bind his hands and feet, and removes his hood. They trade glares over the length of her wand. 

“Is anyone else aboard?” 

“No.”

Then, from the gangplank, the sound of slow clapping. “Well done, Granger.” 

She whips around, her wand level with Draco Malfoy’s chest. A smirk curls his lips. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Providing back up.” 

“I don’t need an Auror.” 

He looks to the trussed man behind her. “Clearly.” 

“What, then?” 

“I have a proposition for you. There’s trouble brewing on the continent, and I need a specialist.” 

“It couldn’t wait until business hours?” 

“I wanted to see what I was getting myself into first.” He takes her in, head to toe. Hermione’s stomach swoops at the implicit approval. “Perhaps we can discuss the details over a nightcap?” 

His eyes shine with the promise of adventure. It sets her alight, but it’s not in her nature to go quietly. Besides, Malfoy has a lot to prove. 

She brushes past, nonchalant. “No. It’s late, and I need to get my suspect into Ministry holding.” 

He practically growls, unaccustomed to the refusal, and Hermione knows the game has started. She gives him an over-the-shoulder grin. 

“You can make your case over lunch tomorrow instead.”


	15. Sense of Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Sense of Adventure  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 429  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [JCOBryan1990](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JCOBryan1990/pseuds/JCOBryan1990)

“Where’s your sense of adventure, they said. I’ll show them my sense of adventure from the tip of my wand when I get my hands on them!” Hermione muttered to herself as she twisted her wand between her fingers. 

She’s muttering again. She said she would stop. Why isn’t she stopping? He thought to himself before exploding, “OUR DAMNED WANDS DON’T WORK HERE! FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING MERLIN WOMAN SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Draco stood kicking his shoes off tearing his socks from his feet before rolling the lower portions of his trousers up as he went to walk along the shoreline. 

Waves crashed along the shore while Draco looked to the heavens. “What am I supposed to do? Damn it! I swear to all the Gods I will hex their fucking bollocks off.” 

He felt her before he heard her, “Draco?” 

“What?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as a few minutes before with her. 

“I’m sorry. I know this is my fault as much as it is Harry and Theo’s. Harry knew he could goad me while Theo knew you wouldn’t let me do this alone. I know I have been a crazy person—” 

“Understatement, Granger, such an understatement. What made you think you could navigate that, that oversized piece of driftwood you call a raft without a working wand? With that being said, what made you think I COULD help you without a working wand?” 

Wrapping her arms around his waist from behind him she pointed to the clear skies overhead. “You know the stars and constellations better than anyone I know. I thought between you and the constellation Pyxis, we would be fine.” 

Turning to face her, wrapping his arms around her waist, Draco said, “While your confidence in me and the stars is heartwarming, what your big beautiful brain didn’t take into account was Potter following along with Theo to spell the boat to guide us in the opposite way we tried to go.” 

“Why would they do that?” She asked leaning into his warm embrace. 

“Because your stargazing fiancé refuses to name either one of them as best man. This wreckage included you because of me and me alone.” Kissing the top of her head. 

“Well, the upside is they have to come and get us before to long.” She smirked up at him. 

Quirking an eyebrow, “How do you figure that?” 

“Do you think either one of them will survive the wrath of Narcissa Malfoy if the wedding she just spent the last year planning is missing the bride and groom?”


	16. The Road to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Road to You  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [In_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams)

4TH PLACE  


East-southeast.

The needle at her wrist spun and whirled, spiking her heartbeat in her chest as Hermione pressed on. For two weeks now, she had chased after _something_ , seeking the resolution for which she so desperately longed. She felt the nudge within her, underlying every waking minute.

The tattoo had begun to manifest on her nineteenth birthday as little more than a darkened smudge, gradually strengthening over the three years that followed. And now, it was undeniable. Simple but distinctive, a compass rose had inked itself to the inside of her wrist. Stark against her skin, with decorative embellishments along the needle.

The mystery of it had been enough to keep her from sleep. But then almost nine months later, the needle began to _spin_. 

Startled wide awake at the feel of it, Hermione had buried herself in research. 

None of the answers made sense but for one. 

_A soul mark_. 

Hermione had never believed in the connectedness of souls until she felt it for herself. And as she pushed herself onwards day by day, her fatigue sloughing away under something infinitely greater, she could rely only on the motions of the needle, imprinted securely on her wrist. 

East-southeast. 

She was close; she had been able to feel the reach of the mark as it strengthened each day. Three days earlier, her soul had leapt in anticipation, spurring her across the English Channel into France. 

Hermione didn’t know what she would find when the needle finally went still. She hadn’t had time to ponder the implications or the truth of what she sought. Her wrist pulsed, the magic of the tattoo entwined with her lifeblood as it raced through her veins. And all that had mattered, for weeks, was following the compass.

Whether to salvation or ruin, she didn’t know. 

For years she had languished in solitude, wondering if she would ever find any real truth in life. But now...

Hermione Apparated into southern France, the needle twisting in its calibrations as she landed. Southeast. 

Her heart raced, pressing her onwards as she made another leap through time and space. She was so close she could feel her soul awaken, uncoiling as a cat from its slumber. 

_East_. 

As she turned on the spot, anticipation clawed at her throat even as nerves settled in the pit of her stomach. 

The needle went still, tension lingering in the air, drawing attention to the sound of each heartbeat.

Hermione could feel eyes on her as she scanned the plaza; astonishment leapt within her core even as she felt her soul reach out. 

A flash of platinum blond hair, stormy grey eyes, uncertainty in his expression. But she knew him. She knew him with every measure of herself. 

The words slipped from her lips. “Draco Malfoy.” 

His stare assessed her, shrewd, before he brandished a hand. His wrist bore a compass rose, its needle aimed at her heart. 

His lips curved with a smirk, hope warming the depths of his eyes. “Surprise, Granger.”


	17. The Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Gate  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [iwasbotwp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasbotwp/pseuds/iwasbotwp)

ADMIN CHOICE  


Malfoy had already been an Auror for a few months when Ron, of all people, inadvertently clued Hermione in to the fact that the ornate compass displayed on his desk didn’t have any real use. 

"Oi, Malfoy! Why do you have this if you never take it out on assignments?" Ron had tapped the compass’ glass top. "Could've used it on the Sommers case."

"Just because you can't locate your own arse without a compass, doesn't mean the rest of are as incompetent, Weasley."

Hermione had snickered, quickly turning away to hide her heated cheeks when Malfoy caught her eye and smirked.

After that, her curiosity had been piqued. She was certain he'd seen her studying it—and him—from afar. She’d undoubtedly caught him staring at her. 

"You know, you just need to ask the question, Granger." He'd sauntered up while she'd been gathering documents for a Wizengamot presentation. 

"What?" She was distracted, looking for a final file.

"About the compass."

Having found it, she moved towards the lift. Malfoy's timing with this tantalizing offer couldn't be worse. "I really don't have time for this now."

Striding past her, he pushed the call button. "How about over dinner tonight then?"

The gate slid open, revealing an empty lift. He placed his hand against the gate, and her mind blanked as she ogled the corded muscles below his rolled up sleeve.

"I—" The gate made a whirring noise as it attempted to close, breaking her reverie. "I don't know..."

He made a sweeping gesture; she took the hint to step in, and he followed. With him no longer holding it, the gate shut. She jabbed the button for Level 2. The lift zoomed off, with them staring at each other. Appearing nervous, he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. She stood stiffly, clutching her papers like a shield. 

He broke the silence. "If tonight isn't good, maybe lunch tomorrow?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"It appears that way." His cheeks pinked.

After months of furtive glances, she allowed herself to boldly assess him. "Tell me why first."

"You intrigue me."

"Good to know. But I meant about the compass."

The lift lurched to a stop. 

Suddenly, she found him invading her personal space, his expression earnest. "It's a reminder about making choices. My parents had mapped out life for me, from before I was sorted into Slytherin at eleven, to where they expected me to be today. But I tore up their map, and I'm charting my own course now."

The gate opened to a group waiting to get in. Even after Malfoy's revelation, the Wizengamot wouldn't wait. Hermione reluctantly stepped out, but immediately turned back, locking eyes with him.

"Coffee," she called over people grumbling about being forced to go around her.

"Pardon?" Too late, he moved to follow her. 

She hoped he'd hear her over the gate clanging shut. "Let's have coffee."

Through the gate, Hermione glimpsed the first genuine smile she could remember him directing her way.


	18. The Hungry Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Hungry Walls  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: Major Character Death
> 
> AUTHOR: [MykEsprit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MykEsprit/pseuds/MykEsprit)

Moonlight slices through an embrasure, shining onto his matted hair. His face is creased; his body slumps against a moldering wall. Yet there is a freshness about him, like a sprout growing on a mound of rot. He flavors the air, and she tastes it on her tongue—

A memory. Sweet. Exquisite. It riles her hunger.

She glides over, ignoring the spent masses huddled in dark corners. Her jaw slackens in anticipation as she hovers above him.

He glances up, gray eyes flat. “No,” he croaks. “Leave me this one. Please.”

She leans further into him. He groans, stiffening. Then, a rush as she takes a pull—

The scent of ink and parchment, lingering beneath sweat and soot.

Chestnut curls entangling his fingers.

A kiss, pleading, urgent, in an abandoned corridor.

“Fight with us.” Hermione clings to his forearm. 

“My parents…” He glances at the serpentine mark peeking between her fingers. It feels cold, despite the warmth of her touch. “I have to protect them.” He drags his eyes up, hesitant to meet her gaze.

Her lips are a hard line. But in her eyes, understanding flickers. “I’ll find you when this is over.” She cups his face. Brushes her thumb over his cheekbone. “Be careful, Draco,” she says, already breaking away from him.

Panic seizes his chest. He pulls her back and sheathes her in his arms as if he is protecting her from his own failings—his paralyzing fears, his torn loyalties. 

Hermione enfolds him. Murmurs into his chest, “It’s going to be okay.”

For one indulgent moment, in the safe universe of her embrace...he believes her.

And the adamant, unshakeable love he feels in this memory—it grounds _her_. For fragments of her past life resurface, and she remembers who she had once been— 

A forgotten daughter, lost twice over.

First, in the shadows of her sisters. Carina, Columba, and Delphina were the jewels of the Black family. They had excelled in their fields: Carina in politics, Columba in the arts, and Delphina in scholarly pursuits.

Contrary to her name, Pyxis was aimless. She had lacked her sisters’ natural talents and proclivities for greatness. Envy had driven her to hunt for Ekrizdis’ fortress, where a wealth of Dark Magic was rumored to be found.

Her ship had splintered onto the island’s craggy shore. Yet Pyxis had forged into the fortress, like an eager pest crawling into the mouth of a Venus flytrap. Not realizing until it was far too late that it would _never_ let her go— 

The cursed fortress remains her coffin. Its black curtains enshroud her still. Her body has long withered away, her soul nothing but an extension of its hungry walls. 

She devours the crumbs of that sweet embrace from the young man’s mind, leaving only the cries of battle, the singe of fire, and the rattle of his love’s last breath.

When she is done, she releases him. His body slides to the ground, listless. And she drifts away, hunger already gnawing at her.


	19. The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With a Single Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: The Journey of a Thousand Miles Begins With a Single Step  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [HollyBrianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyBrianne/pseuds/HollyBrianne)

Draco prepares his own tea these days. Every afternoon he scoops two spoonfuls of loose leaves into the bottom of his cup, pours his boiled water on top, and waits five minutes, watching the steam rise in curling tendrils, before taking his first sip. He doesn't _have_ to make it by hand. The Wizengamot had left _his_ wand intact, his mother reminds him regularly, and they still have their elves. But Draco has come to appreciate the ritual, finding the preparation to be just as soothing as the beverage itself.

Today, when his mother joins him in the back corner of their private library, he assumes he's going to hear more of her same tune. At first, she subverts his expectations and drinks quietly from her teacup, until he gives up pretending to read. 

"Something you wish to say?" he asks.

She, in turn, gives up her nonchalance. "I worry about you."

Draco's heard this from her, too, ad nauseam in the year since the final battle, and he isn't particularly keen on continuing this avenue of conversation. In lieu of a reply, he swirls the dregs in his teacup. On the third rotation, his mother catches his wrist.

"Turn it onto the saucer."

"Mother—" he starts in protest.

"Allow me this," she says, pleading but firm. He does as he's told and overturns his cup. Narcissa waits for the liquid to drain then picks up the cup to read. "The leaves agree with me. You've been acting as if you're on house arrest. It’s finally time to venture out."

Draco can't help but lean forward, peering over the lip of the cup. The leaves are arranged in eight lines radiating from the center like a star. He furrows his brow. _Not_ like a star, he corrects, like a compass rose. He's to embark on a journey.

* * *

His first journey isn't actually much of one. He spends the following afternoon in Diagon Alley, trying to blend into the crowds with minimal success. He receives a few intrusive stares and a handful of contemptuous glares but is otherwise unscathed. He begins to think himself silly for staying away so long, then the sight of a certain witch stops him cold.

If it's possible, Hermione Granger is even more beautiful than he remembers. In his last memory of her, she’s dirty yet victorious. Now she's glowing, relaxed in a way he's never seen.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

She doesn't sound accusatory, only curious; she must know he's been a shut-in. The witch has little reason to be nice to him, but it's a gift he'll greedily accept.

"Shopping," he says, feigning composure, and indicates the store beside him.

"I didn’t peg you for the type," she replies with a crooked grin.

His confusion is resolved when he realizes that he's standing in front of a second-hand shop.

"Yes, well... everything deserves a second chance. Right?" Desperation leaks into his tone. Mercifully, she ignores it and smiles wider.

"I agree."


	20. True North [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: True North  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 500  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

Draco looked at the direction post in front of him. He had lost sight of the witch he had been trailing in the crowded market. If she knew she was being followed, she hadn’t let on. 

He was annoyed, of course; he needed to find her. He worried too much when he didn’t know where Granger was, and it was best for him and everyone around that he remain calm. 

He tried to stay near her, but out of her sight — like a trained lap dog, but without the lap. It was what he had been reduced to since being bitten. 

Her very essence sang to him. It was ironic, given how he had made her life miserable over the years: the one woman who would have nothing to do with him was now the one he could not do without.

In London, it was easy enough to engineer opportunities for their paths to cross. After all, Draco knew all of her habits: when she left the Ministry, what stores she shopped in. But here, in the midst of the Old City, a place filled with old magic and new, things were far more complicated.

He looked down each alley again, a growl building in his chest. He was frustrated that he couldn’t spot her tell-tale hair, so he did what came naturally, he closed his eyes and let his other senses take over.

He breathed in deeply, catching a hint of her scent. While it was mixed in with so many others, he’d know hers anywhere. It quieted his anxious heart and he waited for the familiar tug to show him the way, always drawing him towards her.

It was a half-life, but it was the best he could do, spending his nights in the alley outside her building; and his days lurking around, just out of sight. He owed this to her, to not saddle her with his affliction.

The pull in his chest pointed him in the right direction and his feet eagerly followed. He turned once more, but came to a halt; the very witch he was trying to find was standing in front of him with her wand pointed at his chest.

“Why are you here? What do you want, Malfoy?”

“You.” The word slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Her face showed a range of emotions: surprise, wonder, confusion. For some reason, fear wasn’t one of them.

She put her free hand over her heart and rubbed her chest. “What is this? Why do I feel you?”

He hadn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t meant for her to see him at all, hadn’t known she was affected.

She must have seen hesitation in his eyes. 

“The truth - tell me the truth.”

He didn’t want to; he knew she wouldn’t want to hear it, but he couldn’t lie to her.

He took a deep breath and whispered the words that he had only admitted to himself. 

“You’re my mate.”


	21. True North [2]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: True North  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [granger_danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/pseuds/granger_danger)

2ND PLACE  


**December 1994**

Pansy’s perfume smells _pink,_ and Draco wrinkles his nose throughout their stiff waltz.

Nearby, Krum twirls Granger, who crashes into his chest, laughing.

Draco ignores a tug at his solar plexus, which issues directly from Granger’s unexpectedly glossy mouth. It’s not attraction in the sense that she’s fit, though tonight she’s certainly turned heads.

It’s more that an invisible thread stretches taut between them, and whenever she smiles, it _yanks._

After, in the Slytherin dungeons, they take the piss.

“I’m embarrassed for her, really,” Pansy simpers.

Draco musters his venom. “Even painted up, she’s still a _Mudblood.”_ His words ring false, and the Granger-inspired heave in his stomach dissents.

Blaming the goulash, he vomits in the toilets, which is a winning excuse not to kiss Pansy goodnight.

**July 1998**

“You needn’t have testified, Granger.” Draco brushes past her in the narrow Wizengamot corridor. “Mortifying, enduring your bleeding heart drivel.”

Her defiant chin dares him to walk away. Against his better judgment, he doesn’t.

“Deny it all you like, Malfoy. I know you have a moral compass.” Her eyes are fiery but her mouth is kind. She presses something into his hand as he passes and he automatically pockets it.

“Sounds tedious.” He tries breezing away, but her draw is irresistible.

When he glances back, she’s still _burning_ at him. His overwhelming impulse is to sweep her up in his arms and weep all over her lovely neck.

Instead, he walks away.

It’s not until he empties his pockets that night that he finds the silver compass. For a Muggle thing, it’s quite nice.

Inside, a tiny note: _To guide you. -H_

Because of her, he’s cleared of all charges.

**October 1998**

Granger’s enchanted the damn thing.

Now Draco paces the Manor halls each night brandishing the compass, watching its red needle flicker, examining the prejudices he was raised with like a jeweler with a loupe and finding them all flawed.

Whenever he does sleep, he dreams of her in a wood, cheeks wind-bitten, walking north.

The compass _affects_ him. Surely it’s charmed, possibly cursed.

Draco carries it with him every day anyway.

**September 2004**

Potter’s Patronus said to track north. This forest is warded against Apparition, so Draco proffers the compass.

“Oh!” Hermione beams. “You still have it!” Four years of working together and his gut still lurches whenever she smiles.

“Of course.” He lifts a brow. “Though I know what you did.”

She tilts her head in question.

“The enchantments.” Her face is blank, so he continues. “You laid spells on it… something… to make me make better choices. To make me... _good.”_

“Oh, Draco.” Hermione’s eyes go soft. “It’s completely Muggle. It was my grandfather’s.”

He frowns, falters. "You didn't...?"

She smiles fondly. “It was all you. I _told_ you—”

“Granger.” The air between them buzzes. “Hush.”

Draco kisses her. Currents surge and swell. It’s full of regret; it’s full of promise.

It’s long overdue.

It couldn’t have happened a moment sooner.

She kisses back.


	22. You Always Know What to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: You Always Know What to Say  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 499  
> Warnings: Major Character Death
> 
> AUTHOR: [RoseHarperMaxwell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHarperMaxwell/pseuds/RoseHarperMaxwell)

1ST PLACE   


Hermione rarely left Draco's side, but she always returned to find him with a stack of parchment. He ignored questions, pulling her into his increasingly frail arms instead. 

She’d assumed they'd have a Last Moment - an intentional, cognizant goodbye - and _then_ he'd slip away. She was horrified to realize his increasing somnolence had culminated in a sleep he simply wouldn't wake from. 

Hermione spent three days aching to hear Draco's voice again, her body curled and draped around his. When he exhaled his last, rattling breath, she clutched the smart lapels of his striped pajamas, screaming herself hoarse until Harry pried her away into a tight embrace.

Ginny numbed her with Dreamless Sleep. As Hermione drifted, she stared unseeingly at an unfamiliar wooden box on her nightstand. 

When she awoke, a parchment rested on his pillow: _I'm sorry, love. I’d do anything to spare you this. I'll always be with you._

She examined the box. It was hollow, rustling faintly when shaken, sealed and impervious to spell. A map of starry sky was etched into the surface. She smoothed her fingers over Pyxis, having never felt so lost.

* * *

Parchments continued to appear. The next day: _I miss you already, love of my life._

She wept and rested fitfully, refusing food. Three days later: _Scorpius needs you. Get up. Clean your teeth._

When Molly and Narcissa pressed her about a service: _Let them handle it. No fucking peacocks, though._

Hermione checked his pillow obsessively. She could only sleep with the growing bundle of his love and guidance clasped against her heart.

She couldn’t fathom what charmwork Draco had performed. When she fell to her knees after his service, a parchment appeared, propped against the baseboard: _Find that steely strength, Granger._

Weeks passed. People checked in on her less, though her anguish was strong as ever. All-consuming. 

She was eyeing the potions cabinet when she saw on the counter: _Do you know you're the most beautiful, impressive witch I ever laid eyes on? My love for you is eternal._

She craved his words and sought them with reckless abandon. 

An orderly row of Dreamless Sleep was arranged before her, bottles uncapped. She reached for another from the cabinet, pulling back a neatly-rolled parchment instead: _Don't you fucking DARE, Hermione._

She tipped them down the sink one by one.

* * *

Months and years rolled by. He never missed a beat. Sometimes mundane, always on milestones, he offered navigation through the choppy waters of her grief.

On anniversaries: _Marrying you was the best decision I ever made._

The anniversary of his death: _You gave me a life I never dreamed I'd have._

After a tearful date she hadn't wanted: _Ours was a once-in-a-lifetime love, but I don't need you to wallow for the rest of your lifetime._

Scorpius's graduation: _You did so well by him, Granger. I couldn’t be prouder._

Her own days dwindled until only one parchment shifted inside the box: _I've waited so long for you, love. You're almost here._


End file.
